and in Health
by ALC Punk
Summary: Sometimes, Kara Thrace isn't as tough as everyone wants her to be. Luckily, there's others who will give her a place to fall back on. Like Sam Anders, who also isn't as tough as he pretends to be.


Disclaimer: not mine Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders, ref: Kara Thrace/Lee Adama Set: season three, post-Rapture Length: 4,000+ Rating: PG, language, vague sexual innuendo. Language.  
Notes: I apologize for the excessive cuteness.

...and in Health by ALC Punk!

Kara woke up coughing. Irritated, she turned onto her side and clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stop it. The tickle at the back of her throat subsided, and a dull ache began pounding behind her eyes. She breathed in, and realized her nose was clogged up. "Nnngh." She announced to the world at large, and Galactica at small.

The curtain tugged open slightly, and Hot Dog stared at her, "Captain?"

"I'm dying," she informed him. Then sneezed.

"Ack." He jumped back, as if that would keep him from catching whatever the frak she had. "Should I get the Doc?"

"No." With great effort, Kara dragged herself into a sitting position and stood. The room swayed a little, but she'd had it do worse when she was drunk. "Frak." But she hadn't been planning to fly a CAP when drunk.

"Sit down, sir," Hot Dog suggested.

"I'm fine. I--" The room spun, and she grabbed for the nearest stable object. Which happened to be Costanza.

"Mmph." He said before maneuvering her back onto her rack. "I told you to sit, sir."

"Frak you." The curse was more of a mumble, though. The room spinning and standing had tired her out. She yawned and slumped backwards, "Better tell 'Pollo I'm not fit to fly," she mumbled, before curling back up in her nice warm bed.

"Yessir," Hot Dog muttered as he scrubbed his hands against his pants. He so did not need to get sick. Not after the rash thing. Then he headed off to tell the CAG they'd need to schedule someone else, and to let Doc Cottle know that one of the pilots had caught the cold running around.

--

The next time she woke, it was only to dimly note that someone was poking her and telling her to move over. Which she did. A moment later, a large, warm body was pressed up against her back. Kara relaxed, coughed, and fell back into her dreams.

--

Someone was groping her. That was the second thing Kara registered. The first was that she was incredibly cold. A shiver escaped her and she pressed back against the person groping her. He was snoring. That registered fourth.

Disjointedly, she decided it had to be Sam. Not that that made sense, but it kind of did.

Her movement made his snoring stop, and he tightened his hold on her, one leg sliding between hers. It was almost enough. Kara blindly grabbed the blanket she'd kicked off at some point and pulled it over them. She started to warm, and it was enough.

She fell asleep again, to the sound of Sam Anders' snores.

--

People were talking, most of them softly.

"How is she?"

The warmth at her back was gone, but she was warm enough on her own, now. A hand was absently stroking through her hair. It was comforting. Had she been more awake, that would have annoyed her.

"Still asleep." Sam replied softly.

"Cottle said that was probably best."

"Yeah. Can you imagine Kara, awake and sick?" A chuckle came from Sam. "I've seen her awake and injured, and trust me, she's way worse than anyone I've ever known."

I am, huh? She wanted to say, but couldn't bother gathering the energy to.

Nevertheless, the hand in her hair stilled, and the rack shifted, as though he were leaning to check she wasn't awake.

"Gods, Sam, you look like shit."

"Better than I was." He coughed, the sound dry. When he finished, he continued, "And this is better than I was on New Caprica."

"New Caprica?"

"Yeah. It was like the worst week in the history of the universe: I got sick, the Cylons invaded..." Sam stopped.

"And the fleet bugged out," finished Lee--because it had to be Lee--tone rueful.

"Hey, man, I know you had to."

"We left you defenseless, without any hope of survival--" Lee paused, then continued, "How did you survive being sick?"

"I knew they'd taken her."

And it was just that simple for him. Kara wanted to hate him for that, wanted to tell him that nothing was that simple. That he didn't just survive because the cylons had taken her from him. She didn't frakking belong to him, for one thing.

But saying that would take effort.

There was a rather awkward pause, and then Lee said, "You'll never give up on her, will you."

"She never gave up on me."

That was also stupid. And a lie. Kara knew she'd given up on Sam lots of times. Every time she went to Lee, to other men, she was giving up on him. Or giving him up. It would be far better for him if he gave up on her.

Shoving that thought away into a corner, she concentrated on the conversation. Which had paused.

Damn.

"Pass the word for Major Adama to report to the flight deck. Major Adama, report to the flight deck." The announcement interrupted whatever else Sam and Lee would have discussed. Kara felt rather put out, she'd wanted to hear them talk more about her.

"I'll check in on you later," Lee offered.

Sam's hand shifted in Kara's hair, but he replied quietly, "You do that, Lee."

Then Lee was gone, and it was just Sam. He shifted again, fingers tightening in her hair. "You can stop faking now, Kara."

Refusing, she kept her eyes closed.

Sam chuckled, then coughed slightly and poked her in the side. "At least move over. I'm cold again."

"Mmph." Kara replied. But she was getting a little cold herself, so she wriggled slightly over to oblige him.

"You are such trouble," Sam murmured affectionately, stretching out in the space provided and pushing her over some more so he wouldn't fall out of the rack. Then he cuddled her against his chest with a soft sigh.

"Would you have me any other way?" Not caring if he knew she was half-awake, Kara snuggled into him. It was allowed, she was cold.

"Hell no."

"Good." About to drift back to sleep, she remembered a question that had been bugging her, "Why are you here?"

"My parents liked each other a lot."

She elbowed him, making him yelp. "I meant on Galactica, idiot."

"Karl called."

Huh. She'd have to kick Helo's ass for him. But later. When it would be easier to imprint upon him how much she didn't need anyone. Even if she was currently cuddled as close to Sam as she could get without climbing into his skin.

She realized that Sam had still been speaking, and she had no idea what he'd said. She poked him. "What?"

There was a pause and then he chuckled, "I said: I figured since I was just about over my cold it would be ok to expose myself to your germs."

"Am not germy."

"Baby, you're sick. You're very germy."

"Don't call me that."

He sighed. "Yes, Captain Thrace."

"Don't call me that either, Sam."

"Then what should I call you?" He was humoring her, she could tell by the amusement in his voice.

Irritated, she elbowed him again. "God would be a good start."

"Nah. Married to God would certainly make for interesting conversation, though."

"In those long days among the civvies," she mocked.

"Think I'll just call you Mrs. Anders."

Kara opened her eyes and then wriggled around and propped herself on her elbow, eying him. Even in the half-light from the end of the drape not being closed, she could see the smirk on his lips. "Are you trying to piss me off?"

"Is it working?"

"Yes." Kara grimly contemplated shoving him out onto the floor. But she was tired. And besides, if he was on the floor, she'd be cold. Cranky, sick, and cold. Dropping back down, she huffed, "It's a good thing you're useful."

"Glad to be of service."

She tried to poke him again and he caught her wrist with a sigh. "Kara, I'm tired. Go to sleep."

"Fine."

"Fine," he repeated, tone mocking.

"You are so annoying," she grumbled.

"I try." Letting her wrist go, he tugged her closer and sighed. "Kara, you're sick. Go to sleep."

"You said that already."

"You're still not asleep."

Feeling childish, Kara licked his chin, knowing it would irritate him.

One of Sam's eyes opened. "I thought you were sick?"

"I am." She glared, "And if you try anything, I will kill you."

"But you're licking me." His tone was very matter-of-fact.

"Well, yeah."

Sam slowly shook his head. "Kara? Has anyone ever told you you're weird?"

"Oh, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," Kara heaved a sigh and wriggled slightly upwards, then kissed him before he could object to her calling him Sammy.

She was going to tease him more, rub against him, possibly even make him think she was interested in sex. But mid-kiss, she suddenly yawned, which put an end to the kiss and made him chuckle.

"Quiet."

"You're the one who won't shut up, Kara."

With a grumpy noise, she settled down, curling into him again.

A sleepy snore was her only answer.

The sound chased her back down into sleep.

--

"This is your fault," Kara informed Sam when she woke again.

"What is?"

"Me being sick."

"How is this my fault?" He shifted a little, but didn't let her go.

Kara grumbled as she replied, "Because you were obviously sick the last time you were here and you infected me."

"I was here over a week ago, Kara."

Which was too frakking long, as far as Kara was concerned. But she wasn't going to tell --him-- that. "Well--"

"And besides, Doc Cottle says you must've gotten it from Sergeant Matthias. Probably because you were sparring with her two days ago." His tone sounded perfectly reasonable.

It still made Kara cranky. She was about to poke him when she stopped and looked up, "Why do you put up with me?" Obviously, she was feverish and sick. She was allowed to ask stupid girly questions like that.

"Maybe I like a challenge," Sam replied, fingers brushing her cheek.

"Or you're stupid."

"Or that."

Kara poked him and curled up again, head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating as well as the sound of crap in his lungs. He wasn't struggling to breathe, though. Still, something that she refused to acknowledge as fear was touching the edges of her thoughts. "Sam?"

"Hrm?"

"How long have you been sick?"

"Couple days." His fingers brushed through her head. "Doc says it's mostly gone, though. Just need to clear my lungs out."

"Oh."

"Why, you worried I won't get better?"

She shrugged, not wanting to get into what it had been like to not know if he'd lived or died on New Caprica.

"You were." He sounded almost smug as he paused to cough, then continued, "You, Kara Thrace, are worried that I'm going to die."

"Don't, Sam."

"Hey." His hands caught at her when she would have wriggled away, "I'm not going to die on you, Kara."

"Yeah, well, don't joke about it." She thumped a hand against his stomach and relaxed back against him. "It isn't funny."

"Apparently not." His fingers teased the hair at the back of her neck gently.

"It's not," she insisted, tired again. The one thing she was liking about this stupid sickness was the amount of sleep it was making her get. She cuddled against Sam, sighing softly as her eyes closed. "And you're an ass."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, baby."

"Don't call me that."

"Yes, Mrs. Anders."

She tried to poke him again, but she was too close to being asleep to manage to move her fingers.

--

Sam was gone when she woke, and she would have thought he'd been nothing but a bad dream, except that his boots were on the floor below her rack when she rolled over to stare out at the bunkroom with bleary eyes.

"'Buck! You're awake!" Everything Jester did was larger than life, he came over and slapped a hand against the side of Kara's rack, "Thought you were gonna sleep through the next Cylon attack."

Kara coughed and then glared at him, "There a reason you're here, Jester?"

"I live here, sir," the other pilot pointed out, tone amiable. He moved away, though, grabbing a book off the table and flopping back into the chair. "I got a message t'give you, too."

"Yeah?"

"Doc says to get your ass down to medical for a check."

"No point." Kara pointed out, coughing slightly. Her head had cleared a little, which was nice. "I'm getting better."

"Don't matter. He says, get your ass down there, he doesn't make frakkin' house calls."

That sounded like Cottle all right. With a grimace, Kara dragged herself out of the rack. The room didn't sway, this time, which she took as a good sign. "Right. Fine." Stamping her feet into Sam's boots--a little big, but she'd survive--Kara grumbled and started off to see Cottle. Halfway there, she was beginning to regret not putting on her own boots. She'd nearly fallen twice, and she was covered in sweat and shaking just a little. Or maybe she should have eaten.

Gritting her teeth, she didn't stop until she'd reached medical. Then she leaned against the wall and caught her breath before stepping across the threshold and looking around for Cottle.

He wasn't at his desk, but she figured he was further in the back--which was confirmed a moment later when she heard the sound of voices coming from the back room. Walking towards it, she realized that Sam was talking to the Doc and quickened her pace. About to open the curtain, she paused as the sense of their discussion started to penetrate.

She frowned.

"--need to take it easy, idiot."

"Hey," Sam coughed, "I'm taking it as easy as I can here."

"Not enough. Have you seen the shape your lungs are in?"

"Don't need to, I can feel them. And they're not as bad as before."

"That's what you think," Cottle rumbled at him. "Frak. Get outta here before I decide to drug you so you can sleep through the worst of this."

Kara had two options: hide, or be discovered listening. She chose the third, yanking the curtain open and glaring at Sam. "You told me you weren't that sick anymore."

"'Bout time you got your ass down here, Thrace. Now get up on the bed while your idiot of a husband goes to sit down out there." Cottle snapped, before Sam could reply.

"I'm not finished--" Kara started.

"Yes, you are," the doctor snapped, words running over hers, "Now get your ass up on the bed before I decide to have one of my orderlies strap you down. And, you," he pointed at Sam with his cigarette, "get the frak out of here."

Seething, Kara obeyed, only opening her mouth once and receiving a curt "Shut up" for her troubles. She sat there, hands clenched as he poked and prodded and listened to her breathe. He made her cough by exhaling into her face, listened to that, and then finally took her pulse and stepped back, eying her.

"What?" Kara demanded before she started coughing again. Gods, she hated being sick.

"You're about halfway through this. Have you been eating at all?"

Kara shrugged, "No."

"Idiot." Cottle glared harder, "You need to eat. See if you can get that husband of yours to eat, too. And both of you get a frakking shower."

"Offending your nose, Doc?"

"The steam will help clear things," he snapped. Cottle turned away, scribbling on his chart. "We're done here. Get the frak out of my infirmary, Starbuck."

"Yessir."

--

"Talk," Kara hissed as she and Sam strolled towards the cafeteria, both deciding food sounded kind of good.

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit."

Sam snorted, then coughed. "Ok. Look, I've got the same thing you do, but it's a little harder on my system because of the pneumonia I had on New Cap. But I'm good. I'll beat this thing before you do."

Eyes still narrow, Kara glanced at him, then shook her head. She didn't believe him, but he sounded sincere. And Doc had seemed to think he'd live. Though he'd also seemed to think Sam had had it pretty bad beforehand. "How long have you been sick?"

"I hope there's soup," Sam muttered.

"Sam."

"Two weeks."

"What?" He'd seemed perfectly fine when she'd seen him the last time. "How?"

He shrugged. "It started slow. It wasn't until the day after I'd seen you that it started getting really bad--you still didn't get it from me, though."

"Riight." Kara shook her head, angry at him. "You are such an asshole, Sam. Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

Setting his tray on the table, he looked at her. "Would you have cared?"

"What? Yes!" Uncomfortably aware that maybe she would have cared too much, Kara clenched a fist and decided that hitting Sam might get her thrown in the brig for insanity. She liked hack, but not when she was sick. "Gods. You are such a frakking--"

"You called me an asshole already, Kara. You might want to try a different insult."

Grabbing her fork, Kara didn't bother replying. She was suddenly hungry, even though the noodles smelled like over-cooked starch and the soup looked unappetizing. Across from her, Sam followed her lead and was silent as he ate his own food.

They ate in silence, Kara silently passing him the salt when he started to reach for it. She didn't want him close enough to touch, and refused to consider why him touching her would make her less inclined to be pissed. When she was finished, she didn't wait for him. Instead, she stood up and headed for the dishpan, dumping her utensils and plates into one before shoving her tray into the slot and heading out of the cafeteria. Doc had said to take a shower and that seemed like a damned good idea.

--

After her shower, she felt a little less likely to kill people. Sam, specifically, but others were grating, too. She also felt exhausted enough to sleep on her feet, so she made her way back to her rack and climbed in. She didn't bother pulling off the still-dirty clothes or boots before pulling the blankets over her head.

"There you are." Sam said.

Kara growled, but it was a small thing.

The blanket was pulled off her legs, and Sam's hands started tugging at the boots she was wearing. "I kind of need these. I was a little worried you'd thrown them out the airlock."

"I should have," Kara growled.

One of the boots came free and Sam set it down before going to work on the second, "Wouldn't you rather have clean clothing, Kara?"

"I'm fine," she snapped, yanking her legs away from him after he'd pulled the second boot off. Curling against the back of her rack, she glared at him.

Sam sat on the edge of the rack, his back to her, and started pulling his boots on. "I'm glad you're fine."

"What're you doing?"

"Putting my boots on so I'm not barefoot when I catch the next transport back to my ship."

Kara might still want to kill Karl, or at least have words with him, for contacting her husband and making him come over to take care of her while she was sick, but that didn't mean she objected to Sam being there. She opened her mouth to say something to that effect, then closed it again. She wasn't going to beg Sam not to go. "Fine."

Leaning on his elbow, Sam twisted around to look at her.

Kara stared back.

A shiver went through Sam, and he broke the staring contest by coughing, a sound which didn't sound so good.

Making a decision, Kara reached out and grabbed his shirt.

When Sam tried to get up, he felt the tug. "Kara?"

She just looked at him, then wriggled and poked him. "I need to get out of these dirty clothes. Could you get me a shirt?"

"You'll have to let me go first."

"But," she licked her lips and said carefully, "You won't leave. Right?"

"That was kind of the point of putting my boots on."

He was going to go. Frak. She was so pissed at him still, but he was going to go, and she was sick, and he was sick, and this was a frakking mess. Kara coughed, then shook her head and managed, her voice cracking as another cough threatened. "Don't go."

"Kara."

"Sam." She coughed again, then croaked, "Water."

"Only if you put on fresh clothes."

"Ass."

He pried her fingers off his shirt, then stood. "I'll be back with water," he promised.

Kara let him go, then slowly crawled out of her rack to get fresh clothing. She felt even more exhausted then when she'd returned from her shower. She pulled off her shirts and leaned against the rack before putting on the clean ones. Shedding her pants, she yawned and decided not to bother with the rest. If Sam objected, he could put her pants on himself.

Blinking sleepily, she crawled back into the rack, the blankets cool against her skin. Shivering, she curled into a ball, trying to get warm again.

The sound of boots dropping to the floor woke her from a slight doze, and Kara stared at Sam for a moment before registering that he was getting ready to join her again.

"Hey." He brushed a hand against her cheek, "I brought you water."

Had she wanted water? Kara blinked again, then yawned and tried to sit up enough to drink from the cup her was holding. Between the two of them, they kept her from spilling it. And it did help ease the tickle at the back of her throat. She coughed a little pathetically, anyway.

Sam set the glass on the shelf above her pillow, then pulled up the blankets and slid underneath them.

"Thanks," Kara murmured, eyes closing.

Sam smelled like smoke, she decided, wriggling closer to him. He was also warm. With a sigh, she fell asleep.

--

In the morning, Kara woke to the sound of Sam coughing. She could feel it reverberating in his chest, and it made her uneasy. Climbing over him, she crawled out of the rack and stood there, listening. As if in sympathy, her own throat started tickling. She coughed, wondering how Sam could sleep through it, since it felt like needles along her skin.

Her coughing fit subsided after Sam's did, and she noticed he was half-awake, hand moving listlessly over the blankets, as though searching for her.

A strange sound escaped him before he opened his eyes and stared up at her. "Kara?"

She fought down another cough, "Got up for water," she lied. He didn't sound like he had on New Caprica. She could be grateful for that.

"K'." He closed his eyes and shifted to the back of the rack, "Sleep."

She should get dressed and find Apollo. She wasn't completely better, but she wasn't worse. Given how short they were on pilots, even her half-sick state would be better than nothing. Without answering Sam, she moved to her locker and pulled out what she needed to wear.

It would be better than listening to Sam cough. Better than hearing his voice rattle (she'd heard that sound in her nightmares so many times while in Leoben's care) until it stopped all-together.

Halfway into her flight suit, she started coughing again. Trying to stop just made it worse and when she tried to move so she could lean against something, her flight suit tangled her feet and she started to fall. Quick visions of Doc Cottle's reaction to her concussion and his irritation that she couldn't keep out of trouble flashed across her face before Sam's strong hands caught her, pulling her back against his chest.

Kara let herself lean against him as she got her coughing under control. By the time she'd stopped hacking, she felt as though someone had scraped her throat out with a spoon. "Thanks," she whispered.

"Apollo is not going to let you fly, so get back in bed, Kara," he murmured.

Not entirely sure she could argue with that, Kara was going to argue when she realized there was no point. If she made it down to the hangar, and Apollo sent her back, she'd just be more exhausted. "Fine."

He released her and stepped back.

"Sam--" Her hand reached out and caught his. "You're going to be ok, right?" she hated the note of pleading that had entered her voice.

"Yeah." He let her pull him back, tucking her under his chin. "Yeah, I am. Doc says my lungs aren't the best, but as long as I take it easy, I'll get over this. It'll just take me longer than you."

"That's 'cause you're old," Kara teased him, pretending that her sniffle wasn't because her eyes were watering in relief.

"Yep."

Suddenly uncomfortable with her worry, she poked him. "Back to bed, soldier."

"Yes, cap'n," he replied, his tone amused.

Kara watched him climb into her rack and settle at the back before she pulled her flight suit off the floor and stuffed it back in her locker. Then she climbed in after him.

Gods. She really had to get over this touchy-feelie thing, she decided disjointedly as she curled up against Sam's chest, savoring the warmth she leached off of him. It was really starting to cramp her style. Such as it was. Especially with Sam.

His hand moved to press against her belly, and she decided she needed to break herself of liking --that--, too.

There should be no feelings involved. Just sex. She called him, he came (and so did she), and then he left. This whole depending on him, letting him depend on her--that was all New Caprica, the past. It wasn't now.

And she'd get right onto pushing him away, just as soon as she stopped feeling like shit.

-f- 


End file.
